


Changing Destiny

by greatduwangs



Category: RWBY
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Slow Build, Time Travel, Universe Alteration, imagine arkos but like yugioh, teen!ozpin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatduwangs/pseuds/greatduwangs
Summary: On one hand, he had been given the perfect opportunity to make sure the Fall of Beacon would never happen – and his partner would be saved.  On the other hand, being the young Pyrrha Nikos’ imaginary friend sure put a hindrance on Jaune’s plans.  Plans he had totally planned.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I began planning and writing this fic in early December 2016. Anything concerning Ozpin was written before anything was revealed in the show itself, but his character in this would probably have been OOC anyway. Also, if anything to do with Pyrrha’s past is revealed, I may rewrite chapters, but only if I don’t have to rewrite much. If not, consider this to be a Universe Alteration.

Whoever said that a quick death was a painless death was a goddamn liar.

Jaune fell to the floor – not that he could even tell if there was a floor – with his eyes clenched shut and clutched at where his wound had been.  His chest had been ripped open, that much he knew.  He remembered glancing down at his ripped hoodie, body shaking violently, his legs falling beneath him, before the pain.  The _pain_.  No amount of training could ever hope to prepare him for the torture he endured in that moment.  His chest felt as if molten-hot lava was spreading in his bloodstream.  His throat was acidic, as a mix of bile and steel rose up to be thrown up in an unappealing pool of bloody vomit.  And his head, gods his _head_ was the worst part.  He vaguely remembered hearing a lecture on Aquatic Grimm and the pressure they endured while deep underwater.  Well, in a morbid sense, he understood how those mindless beasts must have felt while swimming in those depths. 

Even with Jaune’s vivid recollection of his final moments, it had still been an absurdly short time.  He had no time to see his life flash before his eyes.  That was something that happened, right?  You’re supposed to go through some spiritual awakening or something just before you die.  Remember your experiences and suddenly realise the meaning of life or whatever.

But it wasn’t exactly the total truth either. Jaune flipped onto his back, drawing back his clutching hand and lying spread-eagle on the floor.  He had time to remember _her_.

To be honest, he hadn’t exactly stopped thinking about Pyrrha ever since the school dance.  Things had been so much more _simple_ back then.  Beacon was still up and running, JNPR was still… well, JNPR, and Pyrrha Nikos wasn’t a pile of ash scattered in the wind.

With a sigh, Jaune Arc finally opened his eyes.  There were no walls, no ceiling, no colour – absolutely nothing.  He stretched his arms and sat up, cross-legged.

“The afterlife sucks,” he declared for none to hear, before raising his volume as much as he could, “PYRRHA!”

The singular word turned into echoes throughout the space, reaching to no one.  Jaune pouted, disappointed.

“Is this seriously what happens?” He lifted himself to his feet, adjusting his armour. “Poor Pyrrha,” he added, feeling a deep pang of empathy for his partner.  The nothingness was getting to him already, he couldn’t even begin to comprehend the level at insanity she must have been at. 

He stroked one of the strings of his hoodie absentmindedly, twisting it through his fingers.  Well, at least Ruby and the others seemed to be alive.  He lightly pulled. Unless the afterlife was different for each person? What if Ren and Nora had actually died but were in their own personal afterlives like him?  He tugged at the other string, pulling that side down.  Ruby had to still be in the fight, at least.  He rapidly pulled at both strings.  His team had put her through enough.  He wasn’t stupid, he’d seen her when she thought they weren’t looking.  Those small moments of vulnerability. 

There was something strange in his mouth.  Jaune frowned, pulling the wet strings down from his mouth.  He must have been really bored.  And worried.  That too.

“That’s a disgusting habit.”

Jaune screamed, his butt colliding with the floor.  A white-haired boy his own age appeared before him, sipping a mug of what he guessed to be coffee.  The boy raised a brow, looking down at the shocked Jaune.

“You’re Arc, right?” he asked. “You _are_ Arc?”

Jaune’s mouth opened and closed comically, giving him the appearance of a goldfish.  The boy tapped his feet impatiently.  Sensing a snide comment approaching, Jaune jumped back to his feet. “Yes!  The name’s Jaune Arc.  Short, sweet-”

“Sure, whatever,” the boy interrupted. “I’m Oz, and I’m here to repay your great-great-great-great-great-great-”

“ _Professor Ozpin_?”

“-great-great-great grandfather,” Oz finished, eye twitching. 

If Jaune were to take a guess, he would say he either didn’t like being interrupted (hypocritical, but whatever), or Oz wasn’t really Ozpin and was angry someone would mix up their names.

“Don’t call me _Ozpin_ ,” he seethed.

Oh.  Second option then.

“I _hate_ that name.  It’s Oz, or Ozzy if I really like you, or the Great and Powerful if I manage to get that to catch on-”

Jaune stared at his headmaster, eyes wider than the time he’d received his hoodie in the mail.  Oz seemed to notice the weird look, as he stopped midsentence and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“No, you’re right, that would never be popular.  Also, it’s such a _Salem_ thing to do.  Damn me, what was I thinking?” Oz brought his gaze back to Jaune and flashed him a smile. “Thanks for that.”

“You’re… welcome?”

“Now then!” He let go of his mug, which floated in the air, and clapped his hands together. “Onto business, Jaune Arc.”

Jaune swallowed. “Business?” He stepped back in horror. “S-sir, what are you talking about?”

“Alright, if you want answers, _stop talking_.” Oz clicked his fingers.  Almost instantly Jaune felt stone-cold hands wrap around his mouth, preventing him from speaking.  He glanced down and saw nothing. “Understand?”

He nodded, curious but terrified.

“I owe one of your ancestors a great debt, Arc.  To keep a long story short, he helped me during one of my most vulnerable times, and I promised repay him back.” Oz frowned. “But then he died, which, as you can probably guess, put a hindrance on that promise.”

 _I can see how that would be an issue…_ Jaune thought.

“So, instead, I used some magic, planted myself in the Arc lineage, and now I’m here to repay that debt to you,” he clicked his fingers again and released Jaune from his hold, “Jaune Arc.”

Jaune rubbed the sides of his cheeks, bringing warmth back to his face. “Why me?” he asked.

“Because you’re destined for greatness, Jaune Arc,” Oz answered mystically.

“ _Really_?”

Oz snorted, the sound sounding foreign out of what Jaune presumed to be the younger self of his (now former) headmaster. “Nah, I’m just messing with you,” Oz grinned cheekily. “You just got luck of the draw, kid.  Lucky you.”

Yeah, lucky him.

It wasn’t like he was dead or anything.

“So, uh… O-Oz…” he started, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “…how exactly are you going to pay back my great-grea – my ancestor?”

“I’m going to grant you one wish,” Oz declared, raising a single finger.  Jaune swallowed as the strange boy’s lips shifted into a devious smirk. “What is it?  Rich beyond your wildest dreams?  Having the skills of a master swordsman?  Or do you wish to capture a young maiden’s heart?” He spread his arms out bombastically. “Whatever you wish for, I can grant!”

“Whatever I want?” the blond asked.

“Yes, _whatever you want_.  You could be the most powerful man in the world with a click of my fingers.  Within reason of course.”

“…I-I…” Jaune stuttered, his knees shaking.

“Yes?”

“I’m _dead_.”

“So?”

Jaune clenched his fists and swung wildly at Oz, frustration and anger driving his punches.  He tried to replicate what he could remember of Yang’s fighting style, but he could tell his hits were sloppy.  Slow.  Pathetic.

It took him a moment to realise he was hitting the air, and that his target had somehow moved behind him.  He glanced behind him mid-swing, losing his balance.  Time seemed to slow down as he collapsed down to his knees, his palms slamming down onto the floor.  Drops of water fell down, trickling from his cheeks.

“What good is power now?  I don’t care about that, I care about them!  I want to help them!” Jaune choked. “I want my team to be safe.  I want the Grimm gone.  I want –”

He ran his hands through his hair, the built-up pain of the past year releasing itself in an emotional explosion.

“ – _PYRRHA_!” He slammed his forehead to floor. “ _I want my partner_!  I want her to be alive!  I want to fix everything!” He wanted to say what he never could.  Jaune glared back to Oz. “Lucky my _butt_.  Where were you a year ago?”

Oz remained silent, watching Jaune with studious eyes.  For a split second, Jaune didn’t see a strange boy before him.  He saw the Headmaster of Beacon Academy.

He saw Professor Ozpin.

The boy bit his lip, frowning. “You want to resurrect this… Pyrrha from the dead?”

Jaune nodded.  A slimmer of hope raised in his heart.

“I’m – I’m sorry,” Oz said softly. “I cannot raise the dead.”

And the hope was crushed in an instant.  Depressed, Jaune shot back, “then what good are you?”

“I _can_ , however, help you ‘fix’ things,” Oz finished.

“…Fix?”

“What do you know of time-travel?”

Jaune paused. “Are you saying… you can take me back in time?”  The boy nodded, and he grinned widely. “Then you can take me back to the night Pyrrha was killed!”

 _I can save her_!

Oz smiled warmly. “Of course I can.  Time travel should be a breeze for me,” he boasted. “Is that your wish?  To travel back and save your friend?”

Jaune stood up, a determined glint in his eye. “Yes.  Take me back to the Fall of Beacon.” Noting Oz’s stare, he quickly added, “About eleven months ago.  79 years after the Great War.”

“You really are Michael’s descendant,” Oz muttered to himself, before speaking to Jaune, “Good luck, then.  With this, my debt is paid.”

He snapped his fingers and Jaune felt a tingling sensation crawl up his body.  He looked at his hands, which were slowly disintegrating into dust.  The last things Jaune heard before disappearing completely were “Goodbye, Jaune Arc” and a familiar voice shouting his name, before all went to black.

* * *

Jaune shot awake, gasping for air.  He had woken in a small alley, the revolting stench of trash surrounding him.  Glancing upwards, he saw a clear blue sky and smiled.  Good.

It was raining when he died.  Oz’s time travel must have worked.

Resting a hand on a wall for balance, Jaune lifted himself up, eyeing the end of the alleyway.  Although he was resurrected, he had absolutely no idea where he was.  From what he could see past his alley, the buildings were of a Mistralian design.  Most of them were small too, he noted.  He must have either been in a small village, or on the outskirts of the capital.  Either way, he definitely was not in Vale.

Groaning, Jaune slapped his palm against his forehead. “Oh, _come on_!”

He froze.

“What?”  His voice cracked.

Trembling, he looked down at his hands and screamed.  The two hands before him were not of the battle-ready huntsman he had grown to be.

They were the hands of a _kid_.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jaune repeated, clawing at his face.  He felt his fingers poke at old baby fat and suddenly noticed how smaller everything seemed to be. “You can’t be serious.  You can’t be SERIOUS!”

Raising a fist to the sky, Jaune shouted in the squeaky voice of a child, “SCREW YOU, OZ!”

Well, that was just great.  He was weak enough during his first year, he didn’t want to _think_ about his physical capabilities as a child.  Fuming, Jaune clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white and stormed out of the alley.  Might as well start looking for a way to Vale.

Outside of the alleyway, the village was bustling with life.  He had seemed to come across a courtyard of sorts, where various make-shift stores had been set up, and an impressive fountain stood in the centre of a cobblestone path.  On top of the fountain was a statue of a man spearing a shark Grimm.  Jaune whistled, admiring the marble.  It reminded him of the statue at Beacon – a huntsman protecting the people.

Glancing around, he observed what the stores had for sale.  Seafood, spears, the most basic of weapons and armour, and cheap jewellery made up most of what was being sold.  It didn’t take him long to deduce he was in a town near a prominent water source. 

Gods, he hoped there was a port nearby.  He couldn’t afford to waste any time.  Oz was sick in the head, planting a little boy in some shady alley in a town he’s never even seen before.

Or maybe he was just a shitty debt-payer.  Either way, Jaune blamed him.

Jaune sprinted to the closest store, one selling second-hand swords, apologizing quickly to an old man he had almost bumped into.  The woman behind the counter had her nose in a book, leaning back on the wall of a building.  Raising his hands in front of him, Jaune grasped the counter and stopped himself in his tracks.

“Where am I?” he asked rather rudely.

The woman’s eyes continued to scan the page.  Jaune narrowed his eyes.

“Hey!  I need to know where I am!”

No response.  The woman reminded him of Blake.

He swallowed, lowering his hands to rest behind his back.  Kicking his foot lightly in feigned anxiousness, he forced his lower lip to tremble and his eyes to water. “I-I’m lost, and my daddy l-left me!  P-please help…” he lied.

The woman turned a page, humming to herself.  Jaune snarled, ready to jump onto the counter. “Is this how you treat all of your costumers, you – ”

“Persi!” a voice cut in.  Jaune glanced behind him, to see a young man walking towards them, a bouquet of red roses in his hand.  The woman – Persi – finally looked up from her book, smiling widely.

“Hibis!” she exclaimed, placing the book down and leaning forward. “You remembered!”

“How could I ever forget my lovely wife’s birthday?” Hibis smirked, still walking towards the store.  Jaune gritted his teeth, raising an accusing finger towards the man.

“Listen, pal, I was here first, and I-” he began, his body shaking with anger.  Hibis took no notice of him, almost reaching his wife and Jaune’s finger…

And then Jaune’s arm passed through him.

Jaune froze, the rant dying on his lips.  His arm lowered as his eyes grew wide in terror.  The couple continued their conversation behind him, unaware of his existence.

Somehow finding energy, Jaune broke into a run, phasing through person after person.  His eyes darted around frantically and yet no one saw the scared little boy in the middle of the town.  He came to a stop in a quieter part of the village, leaning on his knees and panting.

He noticed a lone newspaper on a bench and reached out to pick it up.  Upon contact, the paper seemed to phase his fingers like the people had, before it finally shifted into Jaune’s hands.  He unfolded it, staring at the front page.

_Paralimnio Daily_

Paralimnio.  Good.

He’d never heard of Paralimnio.

Jaune scanned the newspaper quickly.

His heart skipped a beat.  The paper fell from his grasp and drifted slowly to the ground.

_14 th February, 68 AGW_

After Great War.

He was accepted into Beacon Academy 78 years after the Great War.

Pyrrha Nikos died on the fourteenth day of the second month, 79 years after the Great War.

Jaune Arc slumped down on the bench, completely silent.  He was stuck in his younger body, no one knew he even existed, and he’d been brought back eleven years earlier than he asked.

This was the worst resurrection ever.

Of all time.

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself to write an arkos fic and I actually did it, the absolute madman.
> 
> I was gonna post this on ff.net but critics united is still apparently up my ass lmao
> 
> expect the next chapter sometime whenever


End file.
